


laws of attraction

by arbhorwitch



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, free food is involved, hey they aren't brothers, i swore i would never write something like this but oh well, no sadness! amazing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:42:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbhorwitch/pseuds/arbhorwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Hiro accidentally punches someone in the face, but it's totally fine, and Tadashi is secretly a mother hen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	laws of attraction

**Author's Note:**

> queen of trash 
> 
> not quite queen of angst this time? it's actually pretty happier than expected. also no sex, just dumb boys sharing food and being silly n stuff. (hiro is 18 and tadashi is like, 21. or something. dubious logic!)
> 
> based on one of the ideas of [this post](http://hirotxts.tumblr.com/post/113651060257/tokiosunset-people-should-do-more-meet-ugly-and).
> 
> :')

There’s a lot of blood and you’re pretty sure some of it is from your knuckles, but the guy you’ve accidentally punched has a brilliant smile and is trying to comfort you, so it could be worse.

//

“I’m really sorry,” you tell him, because his baseball cap is kinda tilted on his head and that’s entirely your fault, and his nose hasn’t stopped bleeding yet. His sweater is probably ruined. “It—I tend to get excited, I guess, I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” he mumbles around a mouthful of liquid and, yeah, you _definitely did that_. GoGo is never going to let you live this down. “Jus’ need a sec.”

He’s fairly attractive, you think absently; too bad you almost broke his nose.

“Uh, should we… hospital, maybe? There’s a lot of blood, dude.”

And there is: from his nose to the corners of his lips, staining the front of his white shirt (you’ll have to look up removal remedies) and the sleeve of his sweater. Which brings you to an entirely different question of why this guy is wearing a sweater in the middle of one of the hottest springs Fransokyo has seen in, like, _years_ , but. Whatever. You know you’ve seen him around campus once or twice, so with your luck being the way it is, you have a feeling you’re going to be seeing him a lot more. With bruised nostrils and your matching sore knuckles.

“No hospital,” the guy says, and you definitely don’t feel guilty for being relieved at that, but it still leaves the two of you with the blood… issue. He seems to get his bearings straight though, and suddenly he’s nodding towards the robotics building with two fingers clamped over his nose. You’re not a huge fan of blood. Your stomach feels queasy.

“The lab, okay, there’s probably a first-aid kit there.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, and it’s totally nasally and gross sounding but you’re enthralled by it regardless.

“Right.” You shove your hands into your pockets and steel yourself for the inevitable. “Let’s go.”

//

“So…” he begins, cocking an immaculate eyebrow, and you briefly note that you need to sleep tonight. The quiet of the robotics lab and the couch the two of you are currently perched on is starting to weigh on your nerves. “What was the breakthrough?”

“Sorry?”

You blink awkwardly, your foot stilling where its been tapping insistently at the tiled floor, and the guy—Tadashi—gestures to his nose. It’s beginning to darken around the edges, an awful tint of red fading into his upper lip; you pack a wild punch, apparently. Bullies beware. Where was this untapped strength when you were twelve?

“It was an accident,” Tadashi assures, both you _and_ him, and you nod because your tongue is currently lead in your mouth. “But you looked pretty ecstatic before you made friends with my face, so I’m curious.”

You have to think for a second; the day’s mostly a blur after you wolfed down cold oatmeal this morning, and you’re fairly certain you spent at least three hours dedicated to figuring out how to make the toaster in your kitchen stop being a noisy little shit every time you try to make a bagel half-asleep. Aunt Cass banned you from tampering with the appliances months ago, but there’s no rest for the science-bound.

“Toaster,” you blurt out, and wow, you’re so totally on the fucking ball today. Tadashi has the decency to look interested, sort of charmed—or maybe just polite, because you’re a washed out, tired wreck at the moment. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m reworking my toaster. Nothing is worse than a loud toaster at three in the morning.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he murmurs, combing a hand through his hair. “I hope it works out for you—don’t want my nose’s sacrifice to be in vain, right?”

Definitely not living it down. Tadashi pats your shoulder reassuringly.

//

“I punched him in the _face_.”

“That’s assault,” GoGo states, shoving a screwdriver behind her ear. She won’t look at you, but there’s nothing new about that. “Did you get his number?”

“In the face! There was _blood_ ,” and here you throw your hands up in the air, which is what got you in this mess in the first place. You chance a quick look over your shoulder, but there’s no one behind you caught in your crossfire, so. “My knuckles are sore.”

“I bet his face is pretty sore, too,” she points out, crouching over her latest wheel prototype with a frown. You throw yourself on the chair, tug at the mess on your head, and eventually mutter a quiet, “And yes, I _did_ get his number.”

She laughs, quick and easy, and says, “Good job, loser.”

//

The next time you meet him, you don’t punch him in the face or step on his foot or anything else that causes him bodily harm, so: progress.

“I brought you a coffee,” he says, handing you a brown paper cup with a sleeve, and when you take a sip you’re in _heaven_.

“Dude,” you half-groan, burning your tongue in an adventurous gulp. It’s black with two sugars and you don’t even care how he knows how you take your coffee. It’s glorious. You should probably also start questioning how he found you, but you’re notorious for being a bot genius around here—maybe not too much of a stretch to assume you’e in the robotics lab. You’ve come full circle. “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee, though? Considering I broke your nose and all.”

“Didn’t break it,” he shoots back, which isn’t really the point but you shrug. It’s been a few days and his nose is looking progressively more bruise-ish, but he’s not scrunching up his face in pain or anything. “Besides, you looked like you could use the pick-me-up.”

You decide not to tell him that you haven’t slept in forty-seven hours.

//

“Coffee!” you yell pointlessly. GoGo pats your head and hands you a stick of bubblegum. “Coffee, GoGo.”

“I hear that’s a valid form of flirtation.”

You drop your head in your hands. There’s no sympathy to be found.

//

The third time is definitely not the charm.

You’ve been staring at the same schematics for your photonics class for twenty minutes when there’s a hand on your shoulder, and then you’re suddenly out of your chair and flailing wildly at the mysterious assailant.

You don’t hit him in the face this time, but your elbow connects with something fleshy and your manage to fall backwards.

“Shit!” you yell out—totally dignified, by the way—before your life flashes before your eyes. There’s a breathless rush of pain from the guy you might have just incapacitated, a hand grasping for the cotton of your sweater, and your date with the hard floor never comes.

However, you’re assaulted with one of the greatest colognes you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling, and you can’t believe this is your life right now but it’s so, so much better than another concussion.

“Hiro,” someone says, and you groan into Tadashi’s Daft Punk t-shirt. Of _course_ he listens to Daft Punk. Of course he has a t-shirt. People wear shirts. “Hey, you alright?”

You lean away from him when you realize you’re basically cuddling the poor guy, and proceed to stab him weakly in the ribcage with, “ _Dude_ , don’t _do_ that! Who sneaks up on someone working?”

Tadashi’s nose looks better at least, not quite so black and blue. Your own knuckles are split, more from dryness than anything, and the base of your spine is throbbing from where you collided with the edge of your table, but… it could be worse. Tadashi’s got that half-smile, half-smirk thing going on, that weird quirk to his lips that makes him look younger than you know he is, and he hasn’t let go of your arms yet. You’ve yet to decide if this a good thing.

“I called your name four times,” Tadashi explains, raising an eyebrow—again—and it _does_ something to your stomach, something weird and gross and entirely unpleasant. “But seriously: are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, trying to remember what you were even doing. Your phone’s been dead for the last hour or so, and if it’s after ten, Aunt Cass is probably already on her way to come pick you up. Is it Friday? You blink. “Hey, what day is it?”

Tadashi’s smile dips and he’s frowning at you, his eyes way too concerned for your liking, and says, “It’s Wednesday.”

“Oh.” Shit. “I have to e-mail Sato my thesis.”

You try to shrug out of his hands, but he’s searching your face for something he’s not going to find—you don’t hand out secrets like gifts and you’re way too tired to deal with intrusive third-years trying to mother you.

“Hiro,” he begins, and you cut him off with a shake of your head. It leaves you sort of dizzy, sort of nauseous.

“Look, appreciate the concern and all, but there’s a bowl of cold stir-fry calling my name after I get that e-mail out, so you need to move.”

He does, though he’s not particularly happy about it, and says, “When was the last time you slept?”

“I had a nap this afternoon,” which is not a total lie. You did nap, and it was this afternoon, but it was only for fifteen minutes and you woke up more confused than anything. But you _did_ sleep a full night two days ago, which is more than the last time you and Tadashi spoke; all progress is progress.

“Well,” Tadashi murmurs quietly, nodding towards the door, and you really, really have to wonder how he can make a head flick so smooth. “Then why don’t we get dinner?”

“E-mail first,” you remind him, shoving your finger at his chest again for emphasis. He bats you away with a laugh, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes that has you reeling.

“E-mail first,” he agrees. You think about modern day prince charmings and promptly shut off your brain. “I know a pretty good place for quiet dinners.”

//

The place turns out to be behind the main campus building, a neat little spot with cherry blossom trees shedding pastel leaves and a comfortable, soft patch of ground beneath. You’re somewhat sorry you never found this place before—it’s hidden and you’re both shrouded by the heavy branches—but you’re rarely ever in the main building except for your history classes and don’t often go exploring around here.

He takes a seat on the grass first, unpacking his bag as he goes: a container of what you think might be chicken wings, another container of what you know is onigiri, and a bottle of spring water. Strange choices; you’re surprised there’s no dessert.

You take a seat next to him, putting enough distance between the two of you that you can escape if need be, and pull out your own late dinner consisting of cold spicy chicken stir-fry and some eclairs. You spare a moment to mourn a lack of drink. Whatever; you’ll steal his water if you need it. Totally a normal friend thing. Maybe.

“You bake?” he asks gently, popping off the lid to one the containers.

“Sometimes?” You stare at the eclair and frown, debating whether or not to eat it first. Is that proper etiquette? Not that it matters, because it’s not like you’re on a date. You think. “My aunt made these ones. I haven’t really mastered the art of pastries yet.”

“Huh.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes a bit, and you’re torn between booking it out of here as fast as your feet will take you and kissing his face. Which, no—that’s not a thing you _do_. Also, his nose hasn’t completely healed and you’d rather not accidentally bump it or something. Logic.

And then you notice what he’s picking out of his container with his chopsticks and you _laugh_.

“Pandas?” you wheeze, slapping a hand over your mouth. “Dude, that’s—oh man, that’s adorable.”

“Hey,” he mutters, waving a chopstick at you. There’s a bit of sticky rice stuck to the end. “A very good friend of mine made these.”

“They’re very…” You bite the inside of your cheek, pausing for a moment to think. You have to admit: they’re excellently crafted and look extremely delicious. Your laughter tapers off. “They look pretty good, actually.”

Tadashi nods his approval, grabbing the body of one of the pieces with a pleased grin. “They’re delicious—and pandas are cute.”

You… really can’t dispute that.

“Touché,” you say instead. The satisfied smile never leaves his face, and you think it suits him; it’s a genuine smile he’s giving you, and you don’t see that too often. “I prefer koi, though.”

“I’ll put a word in for you,” he says sincerely, offering the piece he picked up towards you. You raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t budge. “Try it. I guarantee you you’ll like it.”

It should be awkward, the way you lean forward and let him feed it to you, but mostly it’s just—nice. There’s no hustle of the lab around the two of you, or the frantic typing of a late assignment that you completely forgot about, and there’s no one around to bother you; you know part of it is the location, but you probably owe most of the silence to the time of night. The sun set a while ago.

The onigiri is delicious, as he promises, and you end up staring at each other for a few seconds that feel an awful lot like eternity before you snap out of it and start picking away at your own dinner.

You barely know him, but he’s familiar in all the ways that hurt to think about.

//

“He likes pandas,” you tell GoGo, your cheek resting on her knee. She’s not wearing her ripped tights today, so it must be Friday. “He thinks they’re cute.”

“Don’t steal a panda for him,” she says, absently threading her fingers through your hair. You really, really love her sometimes. “How did pandas even come up?”

You shrug awkwardly, mutter, “He also likes onigiri,” and her fingers pause where they’re pressed against your scalp. You manage to look up, a twist to your neck that you’ll regret later, and she’s frowning at you in the way only she can pull off.

“Panda onigiri?” she asks, brows furrowed, and you nod. You’ve hit your strange situation quota for the week. “Honey hasn’t made me panda onigiri in ages.”

There’s something about the lilt to her words that has you on edge for no discernable reason, but then the pads of her fingers are back to brushing through your hair and you relax.

Whatever it is, it can wait.

//

As it turns out, it can’t wait.

“You know GoGo?” Tadashi asks you, effectively startling you out of your history trance, and you yell out something about Alexander the Great with wide eyes before you catch yourself. Tadashi’s almost as bad as your toaster, and _that’s_ saying something.

“She’s my best friend,” you say instead, and: “Also, I swear to kitchen appliances everywhere, if you sneak up on me one more time, I will ban you from my section of the lab.”

He completely ignores your tirade and asks, “Did you eat lunch today?”

“Stop mothering me!”

“So that’s a no,” and he gently takes your hands away from their frozen position over your keyboard. You should be outraged. You should fight for your right to type out the thirty page essay in peace. You do neither, and let him drag you away from your desk with a confused frown.

“I didn’t pack a lunch today,” you explain quietly, shrugging out the kinks in your shoulders; there’s an ache to your bones that has little to do with poor posture, and your eyes are sore with the combined brightness of the lab and your monitor.

“It’s fine,” he says, and you don’t hesitate to lace your fingers through his. You’re not really sure what the two of you are doing—you’ve had late night Skype conversations almost every day this week, and it turns out that Tadashi is one of the few people who will actually text back in a timely manner. You’ve never used your phone so often for something other than school related. It’s a budding friendship that you’re actually pretty okay with, though the sense of familiarity has yet to leave you, a nostalgia that curls heavy in your chest some nights.

He ends up leading you to the secluded spot, and it’s strange to sit under the roof of bright pink during the day; the sun casts shadows through the smaller branches, a patchwork of pretty patterns on the grass, and it’s a comfortable warmth that the two of you soak in. He unpacks two containers from his bag, handing you one with a smile, and you know better by now than to try and argue.

They’re in the shape of tiny fish, squares of seaweed over white sticky rice, and you take the extra pair of chopsticks with a grateful smile.

Tadashi says, “GoGo’s a good friend of mine,” and you stretch out your legs, lean back against the rough bark of the tree.

“I guess that makes sense. Honey made these?”

Tadashi nods. “Do you know her?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” he says, and he looks proud, a spark to his eyes that you can’t help but smile at. You smother it with your lunch instead. “Chemical engineering. She’s amazing with chemicals and food.”

“And I’m gonna guess she’s friends with GoGo?”

“Right in one.”

You can’t find it in you to be surprised, because despite how close you are to her, you don’t know any of her other friends and you only have Fred between the two of you. She’s all you needed up until this point, and something tells you that’s going to change in the next few weeks; whether you’re excited or just want to climb into bed and sleep off the exhaustion, well.

“So,” Tadashi starts, cutting you off mid-thought. You look up at him, and you’re hit with the realization that you don’t really _need_ anything else other than this. Koi-shaped onigiri in the midst of spring, buried somewhere in the back of campus with someone you met via your fist to his face. Your life has never made sense. “Should we make a habit out of this?”

You shrug, because you’re not sure what you should say to that.

So you scoot over in the wake of your silence and give your answer with your body pressed against the length of his.

Fuck the familiarity—you’ll take the comfort.

//

He gives you cream for your perpetually dried hands, smooths it over your knuckles and between your fingers, and you learn the curves of his veins and the magic of Honey’s knowledge.

Your hands begin to heal and you start eating lunch again. It’s nice.

//

It’s a month after the nose incident that Tadashi comes barrelling into the lab, trusty bag slung over his shoulder and a purpose to his step, that you decide you don’t care if you lay awake every night for the rest of your life wondering if the two of you are breaking some law of existence.

You yank him down by his stupid plaid shirt, press chapped lips to soft ones, and pull away with a smirk that could rival his own.

“That was…” he begins, and you cut him off, waving your hands around a bit madly. You don’t want to think about it.

“I don’t do the sex thing,” you tell him straight up, and he laughs like it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and you stopped being surprised ages ago, so maybe it is. You might even love him. You think you could, at least.

“Does this mean my mothering has a purpose now?” he asks, and you slap him on the arm, spinning around to shut your laptop. You have a lunch date, like you do every Tuesday and Thursday at noon, and you’re sort of hoping for something a bit more foreign today.

“Your mothering will never have a purpose,” you say belatedly, shoving your computer in your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. “But s’cool. I like free food.”

He grins, grabs your hand, and you flick his nose with something like happiness unfurling in the hollow of your ribcage.

You’ll get used to this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can catch me over @ [tumblr](http://arbhorwitch.tumblr.com). ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


End file.
